Lucas
The crunch of gravel under the tires of my Mercedes was a sound I hadn't heard in months, yet it felt as familiar and grating as an old argument. The long, winding driveway snaked through unnaturally green lawns, leading to my childhood home. Or rather, my father's mansion. It had never truly felt like mine.
The car came to a stop and before I could even fully swing the car door open, the grand entrance to the house burst open, and my mother rushed out, her eyes widened in shock seeing me standing before her.
"Lucas! Oh, my boy, is it really you?" Her voice was filled with disbelief and relief. She reached me as I stood, her hands fluttering up to cup my face and her thumbs tracing.
"It's me, Mom," I said.
"I can't believe it. You never call, you never visit," she lamented, he
